Animal Magnetism Read online

  Lucky cried.

  Still stroking the trembling dog, Brady bent low to murmur to her softly.

  “Another talent of yours?” she asked. “Soothing the scared female?”

  He smiled, and she had the most ridiculous urge to pretend to be terrified so he’d hold her and murmur in that voice and hold her close, too. And maybe do other things . . . “You do this a lot on your travels?”

  Brady’s eyes were still amused, suggesting maybe he knew where her thoughts had gone. “Assist a sexy woman in the middle of the night with a dog? Almost never.” He shifted, turning so he could more comfortably hold Lucky for her, and Lilah went very still.

  Brady’s back was broad and smooth and gorgeous . . . except for his side, where a long, jagged scar ran from his armpit down to his ribs. It was a few shades lighter than his normal skin tone, signaling that it was at least a few years old. There were other scars as well, but nothing as major as that one long imperfection.

  Lifting his head, his gaze met hers without hesitation or resignation.

  Her fingers itched to touch it, to soothe him, which would be a little bit like trying to soothe a wild, untamed mountain cat. “What happened?” she asked as casually as she could, pouring vinegar over the next quill, then snip-ping it with scissors as she had the first.

  He remained quiet and she figured he had no intention of answering. “I suppose,” she finally said, “it’s one of those you-could-tell-me-but-you’d-have-to-kill-me things, right?”

  His mouth quirked but he held his silence. He was good at that.

  “I heard you spent some time in Afghanistan,” she said softly, working out the next quill.

  “I flew medical choppers.”

  “And in Iraq?”

  “Same thing. I was good at the hot spots.”

  She poured the vinegar and then snipped the quill halfway as she thought about Brady out there on the front line, right in the thick of things, bringing people in and out on a daily basis, constantly in more danger than she could possibly imagine. “Does it still hurt?” she asked as she pulled out the quill.

  “No.”

  “How—”

  “A machete.” His voice was easy enough, but she heard the steel undertone—he was done talking about this.

  She could understand that. “I’m guessing you’ve seen parts of the world that would seem like another planet to me compared to this place,” she said softly after yet another quiet moment.

  He let out a low sound of agreement.

  “You must think I’m pretty naïve and sheltered.”

  “No.”

  “But you do think I live safe.”

  He didn’t answer, and lifting her gaze, she met his, which was sharp yet warm. It seemed impossible that he could be both, but he was.

  Just outside the exam room door, the rest of the center was dark, filled with shadows. Not in the exam room, which felt . . . close. Intimate.

  “You’re right,” she said. “I do live safe. I grew up in this one-horse town with my grandma and good friends, and it’s always been a comfortable fit for me. And very safe.”

  “It suits you.”

  “It didn’t always,” she said wryly. “By the time I graduated high school, I was chomping at the bit to get out of town and find the real world.”

  He smiled, interested. “So did you?”

  “I went to UNLV. University of Las Vegas.”

  He choked out a laugh. “About as different from here as you could get.”

  “You could say so,” she agreed, and yet again wielded the pliers on poor Lucky. “I was a little out of my element.” Like a babe in the woods. Which had been the whole point.

  “Is this the part where you tell me you made your tuition by becoming a stripper?” he asked hopefully.

  “No,” she said on a laugh.

  “A showgirl?”

  “No!”

  He looked her over. “I know. You became a phone sex operator.”

  “Stop.” She rolled her shoulders, the smile fading because the truth was worse.

  His expression turned serious. Reaching up, he stroked a loose strand of hair off her jaw. “Something happened to you.”

  There was concern in his eyes, and a protectiveness that shouldn’t mean anything to her.

  But it did. “No. Not like you’re thinking. It’s really just a very boring old story.”

  “You’re in luck, then. I love boring old stories.”

  “No you don’t,” she said on a laugh. “You hardly talk at all unless I’m bugging the hell out of you with questions.”

  “True,” he said stroking poor Lucky to keep her calm. “But I like to listen to you.”

  Her heart tumbled and she sighed, again moved by him when she shouldn’t be. She supposed she could tell him a little more. “I got accepted on a scholarship into the animal science program.”

  “To become a vet?”

  “I wasn’t sure. Mostly I just wanted out to see what I was missing. Nobody wanted me to go to Vegas. They all wanted me to go to Idaho State, so of course I did the opposite.”

  “And hit the city of big lights.”

  “Yeah, I followed the scholarship, I really had no choice—I needed the money.” She hadn’t been able to keep it, unfortunately. Among other things, her grandma had gotten sick, and she’d ended up coming back and forth too much. Her grades had slipped and she lost her scholarship.

  Okay, so it hadn’t all been because of her grandma’s failing health, but that part of the story wasn’t in the short version, nor was it up to be shared. “Vegas was a culture shock,” she allowed, and smiled a little at herself, at the good memories she could summon. “But for a time, I loved it.” At least at first. “My roommate was a local girl, and she was determined to help me experience everything I’d missed by growing up in a small ranch town.”

  Lilah had been extremely determined to get out and live. Never look back.

  Well, okay she’d planned to look back a little. After all, there were her friends here, and her grandma, but in those years, she’d been an idealist, thinking her grandma—and everything else here—would remain the same, locked in time, safe in the capsule that was Sunshine.

  Which hadn’t happened.

  “I was going to make something of myself,” she said, adjusting the overhead light to the other side of Lucky’s nose and continued to work. “I was going to be the first Young in my entire family to get a college degree and do something with my life.”

  Which she’d pretty much blown on all counts.

  “So what happened?” he asked quietly when she stopped talking.

  She shrugged.

  Cocking his head, he studied her for a long moment. “You’re leaving out the juicy stuff.”

  Yes. Yes, she was. On purpose, because she was pretty sure she couldn’t tell the story without losing it and she wasn’t ready for that. There were quills to remove. “Maybe it’s your turn to tell me juicy stuff. Why did you come to Sunshine?”

  He didn’t say anything to that. Shock.

  “Oh come on, that’s easy enough.”

  “You already know why I came,” he said.

  “Because Dell badgered you. Yeah, yeah. But you don’t seem like the kind of guy to be . . . badger-able.”

  His eyes slid her way. “You think there’s some deep, dark reason?”

  She didn’t know what she thought—he was an enigma. And also, sin on a stick. “You owe me a secret,” she reminded him.

  That got her nothing but a little smile.

  “Come on,” she said. “There’s got to be something you can tell me.”

  Apparently not.

  “You and the guys grew up rough,” she said. “I know that much. Then you went in the army, which was obviously a different kind of rough altogether, and now you roam at will because you never learned to settle down in one spot.”

  Annoyance flickered across his features. “Adam and Dell can’t keep their mouths shut.”

 
“I think it’s more that they don’t see us as a good fit.”

  “They’re right,” he said.

  “They have no idea. And I’m not looking for a damn ring, Brady. Any more than you’re looking to give one.”

  He studied her. “What are you looking for?”

  She shrugged. “A fun and easy relationship with someone who gets me,” she said without hesitation.

  He took the vinegar and poured it over the last quill.

  She cut the quill close to the skin and pulled it out while he soothed Lucky, calming her with his quiet voice, assuring her that her trial was over and she’d been very brave. When the dog settled, Brady lifted his head. “I’m a short-term bet at best.”

  “Maybe I wasn’t considering you for my fun, easy relationship. I mean, let’s face it, you’re not exactly easy.”

  He laughed softly, wryly. “Yeah.” He met her gaze. “But we both know that there’s no one else here in town right for you.”

  Her breath caught. He did want her. “No?”

  “No.” He put Lucky down, where she immediately twisted into a pretzel to try to inspect the damage.

  Lilah was resisting the urge to check for damage as well, within herself. That he’d so accurately read her was startling. “I am content,” she told him. “At least for the most part. I like my life, quiet and simple as it is. I like being anchored.” She met his gaze. “Maybe you can’t understand that because you’ve never done the anchor thing.”

  “Sunshine is really your anchor?”

  “The people in it, yes. My grandma. She raised me. She died two years ago after a cancer battle, but until then we were a unit.” Her voice had gone a little husky. That whole awful time in her life—losing her grandma, her college funding, and then Tyler—was still very hard to talk about. “Dell and Adam are my unit,” she said. “My friend and business partner, Cruz, is in that unit.”

  “Everyone you know is in your unit.” He flashed a small smile. “It’s who you are. What happened to your parents?”

  “My mom lives in France with her boyfriend.” Squatting low, she rubbed Lucky. “She didn’t take much to motherhood.”

  “And your dad?”

  “Not around.” She knew her voice was flat when it came to her father, but he deserved no less. He’d walked away before her mother had.

  “So let me see if I get this right,” he said. “For the most part, people stay in your life until they leave or die?”

  She stared up at him, not sure she liked the fact that he’d analyzed her so accurately. “Yes.” Was there any other way? And why did he make it sound like it was so unfathomable? “What about you?”

  “Until coming here, I was the only one in my life.” He shrugged. “Easier that way.”

  “Talk about safe.”

  He choked out a laugh. “You think my life is safe?”

  “Maybe not physically, no. But emotionally? Yes. Yes, I do.” She paused, watching him touch a finger to his own palm and wince. Rising, she took his hand between hers. “You got poked by a quill.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “No, but it will be.” With no idea what was coming over her, she pressed her lips to the rough calluses of his palm. Take that, too safe life.

  He went very still. “What was that for?”

  “To make it better.” She lifted her head, closed the space between them and kissed one corner of his mouth.

  “And that?” he asked, his voice lower now, and husky.

  “Same.” She kissed the other side of his mouth. “Is it working?”

  “Getting there.” He slid his arms around her, hauled her in tight against him and took over, kissing her long and wet and deep, and by the time he lifted his head, she was shaken to the core.

  “And now?” she managed.

  “Much better.” He was reaching for her again just as a thump sounded above them.

  “What was that?” she asked.

  He was already moving up the stairs. “Stay here.”

  She and Lucky followed him, so close on his heels that she nearly plowed into the back of him when he stopped short in the center of the loft. Her hands slid up his back for balance, encountering warm skin, smooth, sleek muscle.

  “Shit,” Brady said.

  “I’m sorry, I—” She yanked her fingers back, but he shook his head. “The damn dog.”

  Peering around his broad shoulder, she caught sight of Twinkles devouring the trash and having a good old time while he was at it.

  At Lilah’s feet, Lucky whined. She wanted some trash, too.

  “He’s already eaten more than his own weight today,” Brady said in disgust. “Nice job on the staying put thing, by the way.”

  “Me or him?” she asked.

  “Both.”

  Lilah ignored the bad temper in his voice and went to her knees to hug Twinkles close. “Oh, you are one very bad little boy.”

  “Yes, and you can spank me later,” Brady grumbled. “When are you going to admit you’ve had your fun and take him to the kennels?”

  “Aw. A big, tough guy like you, afraid of one teeny tiny dog.” She set Twinkles on the blanket on the floor, which he’d clearly been using as a bed. Lucky joined him. They sniffed each other’s hind ends and settled together.

  “That’s not one teeny tiny dog,” Brady said, staring at Twinkles. “That’s the devil in disguise. And besides, I’m way more afraid of you.”

  She smiled. “You are not.”

  “Terrified. You’d better hold me.”

  She burst out laughing at that, and gave him a shove instead, her hands against his hard chest.

  Damn, he felt good.

  He shook his head when she continued to grin at him. She couldn’t help it, she couldn’t stop.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing.”

  He shook his head. “With you, Lilah, it’s always something.”

  Yeah, actually. It was. “You were right before. I’m restless and no one else in town is able to help me.”

  “No?”

  “No.” Stepping into him, she kissed him. She kissed him like she meant business, and by the time she pulled back, neither of them were breathing so steadily. “I hope you’re ready for this,” she said, because she’d consulted with the part of her brain in charge of making rash and stupid decisions, and it’d been unanimous.

  “Lilah—”

  “Shh,” she said. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll be gentle.”

  Nine

  Brady didn’t say anything, but his eyes were aroused and darkened with something else as well. He took Twinkles from Lilah’s arms and set him on his blanket in front of the fireplace. He snapped his fingers and Lucky joined Twinkles, the two of them